


Where We're Headed

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Children, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, Kids, M/M, Seaside, So be warned, but I don't think it affects anything, just really fluffy, there's a tiny mention of perrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. As Harry and Louis grow older in the world of some things lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We're Headed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queensurf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensurf/gifts).



> Prompt:: Follow Louis and Harry through the childhood and teen years (from a baby to about 18 years old)
> 
> Warnings and apologies:: Oh god this is so cheesy. I’m sorry this is so short and shitty. I am the epitome of slow writers and I was rushing to finish in the like last hour of the exchange so the intervals aren’t very even. But. Also, a lot of sappy song lyrics in here. You might need to use your imagination during some of this. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope it's somewhat okay:)

AU. As Harry and Louis grow older in the world of some things lost. 

 

 _It was inconceivable to me as a child that I would be an adult. I mean, one assumed that would happen, but obviously it didn’t happen, or if it did, it happened when your back was turned, and then suddenly you were there._  
\- Maurice Sendak 

 

*five and seven*

Harry thinks it all started like this. 

With sand crumbling between Harry’s fingers and words tumbling out of his mouth. With waves and sandcastles. With blue eyes deeper than the ocean behind them and a soft, soft voice. 

“Your face is going to stay like that.” Harry’s grimace changes to a defeated frown. “You still never answered me, Louis.” 

“I don’t have to,” Louis says, jabbing a stick into the damp sand, “Go ask your mum.”

“Why can’t you tell me?” 

“Because.”

“Please Lou, please tell me what Valentine’s Day is, I want to know,” Harry whines.

Louis stops stabbing the sand long enough to look up at Harry; eyes heavy with exasperation. “Fine.”

Harry sits up and grins, waiting for the boy in blue swimming trunks in front of him to speak. “Valentine’s Day is...it’s. Well.” Louis starts, and Harry tries not to seem like he’s clinging onto his every word, “It’s for people who kiss. It’s for grownups like your mum and dad and my mum and dad.”

When the words sink in and Harry thinks he understands, he nods. “Oh. Oh okay. So, it’s for people who love each other?”

Louis is back to digging and his brows furrow down at the ground for a moment before speaking. “Yes. Yes, but it is only for grownups. When you’re grownup you’re each other’s valentines.”

Harry chews on his bottom lip and once again, nods a small nod. Warm waves of seafoam splash up against his back as he traces lines in the sandy earth. “I think I get it now.” 

“Good. Now can we build a sand castle?”

“Okay, I guess,” Harry sighs in agreement.

And Harry thinks, reminds himself to ask Louis to be his valentine when they’re older. 

 

 

They were promised thunderstorms and clearly, the only solution was to build a fort. So, with help from Harry’s mum, they gathered up blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and snacks and more blankets and more pillows. They built it between couches and chairs and when their fortress was all finished, equipped with the christmas lights they had found in the basement, they crawled inside. 

Harry imagined this was what a sunset looked like on the otherside. It was orange and pink and soft. It smelled like vanilla and his mum and maybe a bit of fabric softener. He could almost sink into the comforter beneath his skin. With the christmas lights above him he was convinced he was underneath the night sky and the stars were dripping down, tasting like the rain outside this hideaway. Harry didn’t want to go back. 

A gentle brush of fingertips along his arm awake him from his dream and he’s fixing his eyes on the colour of the ocean. He realises his feet are still hanging out of the fort and he is on his hands and knees, so he crawls completely inside and sits down; looks at a boy in front of him. He’s pretty sure Louis is part magic and if he wants Louis to love him the same way Harry loves him, he has to impress him. He needs to act older because Louis is more than two years older than Harry and older kids don’t like younger kids. So he must always have something important to say. 

“Guess what we learned in school today, Lou?” Harry fills the silence, “We learned that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on earth.” 

Louis is staring at him, unperturbed. 

“Isn’t that crazy, Lou?” Harry tries again. 

“Harry, when you’re nearly a grownup, like me, you don’t worry about those kinds of things anymore. You worry about schoolwork and you worry about being first to grab the football at recess. The last thing on my mind is how many holes in the night sky there are.” 

Harry tries not to seem too defeated, but by the way Louis frowns when he automatically deflates, it’s obvious Louis notices. “I mean, that’s cool and all, Haz, but why don’t we just play or read, yeah?” 

Harry nods in agreement and perks up when he remembers the books they brought with them, piled in the corner. “Can we read Where the Wild Things Are, Louis, please?” 

“You always want to read that one,” Louis sighs and his shoulders sink forward, but Harry looks at him with watery eyes and Louis gives in; begins to read. 

Harry sneaks over to Louis’ side and watches him as he turns the pages. He feels arms brush up against one another. He listens to Louis’ velvet voice fading in and out along with the thunder; closes his eyes as Max sets sail. 

“Don’t go. We’ll eat you up, we love you so.” 

Harry winces at the noise from outside and the flashes of light, but Louis keeps him tucked under his arm and hugs him closer; lets him know he’s safe. When the last words of the story trickle into the air, a groggy Harry slips out from under Louis’ safety and finds a spot to curl up in the corner. Harry’s day plays through his head as Louis lies down next to him. He remembers some things like seashells and saltwater, but, what he really remembers is Louis. Louis and his tendency to make Harry’s head spin. Louis and his stupid, dumb laugh. Louis and the way Harry sometimes catches him looking at him funny. The kind of funny Harry doesn’t really understand. When Louis looks at Harry, it reminds Harry of the way his mum and dad look at each other. He’s not too sure what it all means.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice breaks through night. 

“Mmm?” the other voice mumbles. 

“How do you know when you love someone?”

Louis grumbles, “You ask too many questions, Haz, go to sleep.”

Harry tosses himself so he’s facing Louis. “Not like, how you love your mum, but like, how your mum loves your dad. How do you know when you love somebody like that?”  
It’s silent for a moment and in the dark, Harry thinks, maybe the world has stopped spinning so he can catch up with his own breath. Louis tears through and the world is spinning again. “I think you have to kiss them first.”

Kiss them. “Oh,” says Harry. You have to kiss them. “And then what?”

“How am I supposed to know, Harry? I haven’t kissed anyone.” 

And time must be hungry, now, because moments slip through Harry’s fingers as he considers all that’s been said tonight. It might be the late night hour or the fear from the thunder, but his eyes are heavy and his breathing is shallow and Harry has to know. 

Time must be starving. 

“Louis?” Harry’s voice trembles as his mouth betrays him, “Louis, can I kiss you?”

Harry doesn’t move. Harry doesn’t breath. Harry just waits for a sound, for a flicker in Louis. But what he hears isn’t an outrage of revulsion or a whimper of nausea. It’s more of a snuffle. A snore. 

Louis is snoring. Louis is sleeping. And Louis cannot hear the quiver in Harry’s voice. A small part of Harry is relieved. Another fragment of Harry wants to know the answer; wants to know if louis would kiss him. 

But Harry dreams of magic, instead. 

 

*seven and nine*

There are constellations on his knees and satellites in his hair and he’s running from the sun.  
He’s got six minutes to live and his head is spinning along with the satellites and he thinks he’s maybe been hit by an asteroid. 

“Louis!” Harry whines. Harry is conscious. 

“That was your fault. You were in the way.” 

“Was not! You aimed that right at my head.” 

“Only you would think that, Harold,” Louis shakes his head, retrieves his football.

Harry goes to sit on the front steps. He is picking at his thumbnail and louis comes up next to him, football in hand. Louis doesn’t apologise and they sit in silence, with Louis rotating his football and Harry chewing his nails. It’s not a heavy silence. It’s the kind of silence that gives you a chance to breathe. The time when the trees can focus on something besides growing, and the wind settles. The time for understanding between two boys who don’t need saving. It’s enough. 

 

 

*nine and eleven* 

His mum is making pancakes in the morning and he is helping her to the best of his ability. He mixes the batter, he pours the batter, he sets the timer, but mostly, he is thinking about Louis. He thinks about Louis and the relentless grip Louis’ got on him. 

In all honesty, Harry doesn’t truly understand. He is trying to and doing his best, but at nine years old he is intended to worry about nine year old things, not whether or not he is falling in love with his best friend since birth. 

So, he is helping make pancakes of the blueberry variety and being a good, normal nine year old son. That all proves ineffective, though, when his mum asks him about Louis while they sit down to eat. “When have you seen Louis last, Harry?” 

He twiddles with the fork in his fingers and doesn’t look up from his plate. “Harry?” his mum nudges. 

“Erm, the sunday before last I think. When we had dinner?” Harry finally glances up. His mum is looking at him with sad eyes, “Are you two alright? I’ve never seen you go two days without seeing each other? Is something wrong?” 

Harry shakes his head reassuringly, because it is alright. They’re fine. Maybe, Harry is ignoring him a bit, but it’s only because he needs to figure his head and feelings out. He’s pretty sure Louis hasn’t even noticed. 

They finish breakfast without another word of Louis. 

 

 

They’re sitting on Harry’s front steps again with icecream running down their chin and hands and lemonade with those pink straws they both like. 

Harry is sipping on store bought sweetness and prodding Louis’ shoe with his own. They haven't said much. There are a few mutual grumbles here and there from the heat and the sticky hands, before Harry speaks. “Louis? How many days of summer are left?” 

“Ten, I think,” Louis says, tilting his head to lick this side of his icecream cone. 

Harry nods because he understands, but he doesn’t want it to be true. He thinks on it while he’s finishing his ice cream. “Louis,” he asks, “Louis you’re not going to leave me right?” 

Louis looks at him, confused. “What do you mean leave you, Harry?”

“I mean. When we go back to school you’re going to find new friends aren’t you? You’re going to want to play with them more and forget about me.”

Louis sighs, puts down his ice cream and gives Harry a well deserved eye roll, “Don’t be such a baby, Harry. I’m not going to leave you.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

 

 

*eleven and thirteen* 

It’s september and they’re trying to stop the winter. 

He’s just met them, but from what he’s seen so far they don’t seem too bad. 

“Cannonball!” Louis plunges into the water; knees tucked to his chest. Water droplets collect on Harry’s arms and legs when Louis hits the blue pool water. 

Harry laughs because, well, it’s Louis. Louis can always make him laugh. 

Harry is sitting on the poolside, next to one of Louis’ new friends from school, Zayn. They’re watching Louis and Liam, swim near the deep end. The sun is beating down on Harry and he’s a bit thirsty and bored and he’d rather be at home right now, instead of at a pool with two kids he’s just met. Zayn is making him more at ease though. 

Harry asks him why he isn’t swimming with Liam and Louis. He tells him it’s because he’s not a big fan of the water. Harry nods in acknowledgement, “So why did you agree to swimming then? Lou said we could have done something else, you know.”

“I know,” he answered, simply. Harry figured he was going to leave it at that, but he continues moments later, “It didn’t really matter what we did. I’d probably be doing the same thing I am right now, either way.” 

Harry laughs at that. He thinks he likes Zayn.

They chat and laugh and get splashed with chlorinated water in between. When their conversation about favourite football teams pitter out, Zayn asks Harry about his best friend.

“So, how long have you and Louis known each other?”

Harry has to think. It’s been so long. “We’ve known each other since we were really little.”

“He talks a lot about you.” He says it matter of fact. 

“He does?” Harry may have sounded a little too excited. Zayn’s smile is broad. “All the time. It can get a bit annoying at times,” Zayn teases, “I honestly don’t know what he sees in you.”

Harry is about to ask Zayn what Louis has said about him when Liam and Louis swim up near them. Louis is resting his elbows on the concrete ground and looking up at Harry.

“Do you guys want to get lunch?” Louis asks.

Zayn claims he’s starving, Liam agrees and Louis lifts himself out of the pool. 

Harry tags along. The entire time they eat, Harry can’t stop thinking _he talks about me._

 

 

*thirteen and sixteen* 

There’s an amusement park by the sea. 

It’s one of those foggy afternoons that Harry thinks he likes best. 

It’s him and it’s Louis. They had decided to get tickets and candy floss the moment they walked past the gates. That’s what they are doing now. Picking at the candy floss and waiting in line for the ferris wheel. 

As the line shrinks in front of them they get pulled onto the platform and squished into a red cart. Harry doesn’t mind, really, being this close. The bar is locked into place over their legs and they start to move.  
The ride starts and stops as the carts fill. 

Then it starts and it doesn’t stop. Kind of like Harry’s idea towards Louis.

They’re almost done with the candy floss, which means there will be nothing to fill the silent space between them. Harry doesn’t know why it’s been so quiet lately, but he should probably say something and break the spell. Louis beats him to it. “I feel like I could be flying.” He says it so simply, Harry doesn’t know what to say or think of it. 

“This ferris wheel is pretty high off the ground,” Harry looks over the side of the car, but his heart quickens and he wishes he hadn’t.

“I’m not talking about being on this ferris wheel right now, idiot,” Louis huffs, “I’m saying in general, I feel like I could fly.”

“Does this mean you have superpowers? Lou. help me out here, I’m lost.” 

“Metaphorically speaking, I feel like I could fly. I think it’s all going to be different from here. But I also feel so guilty.” 

“You mean after you leave?”

“Yeah, Harry. After I leave.” 

They finish the last few bites of the candy floss without speaking any further. When they get off the ferris wheel, Louis never said anything about flying. 

 

*fifteen and seventeen* 

“What even is that?” 

“It’s Gromit,” Zayn answers. He is spray painting the statue of a dog, green. 

“Why are you doing this again? And why are we in the middle of the school car park?” Niall asks. 

“It’s an art project I have to do, and this is the only place the school would let me.”

Niall still isn’t satisfied. “So I’m using my lunch time to breathe in fumes and watch you paint a statue of a fat dog green?” 

Harry attempts to muffle his laugh in his hands, failing miserably. Zayn continues to focus on his Gromit. Niall switches subjects. “So, Harry. How long has it been since you’ve seen Louis, now?” 

Harry stops laughing. “Few months now. He says the school is doing him good though.”

“Are you coping?”

“Why are you asking me like this is a therapy session? I’m fine, it’s not like I can’t go an hour without seeing him,” Harry justifies. 

Niall looks at him though, with serious eyes. “It’s okay if you’re not okay Harry, we’d understand.” 

“I’m great, Niall. Don’t worry about me. Worry about -” Harry glances behind Niall, pretending to see something like a vibrant head of hair, “ - Worry about Perrie Edwards looking over here like she wants to devour Zayn.” 

Zayn nearly drops the paint can. He scans the car park and glares at Harry when he realises they’re still the only ones in the lot. “Not funny.”

“Hey,” Harry has his hands up in defense, “She could be hiding behind one of these cars, or a bush, listening in on our conversation.”

“That was once!” Zayn exclaims. 

Niall catches his breath from laughing, just long enough to add, “Prime real estate, right there, am I right, Zayn?” 

“Shut up.”

They laugh some more until lunch is nearly over and when everything is like this Harry almost forgets Louis has left him for the better. 

 

 

 

*seventeen and nineteen* 

He’s built walls around himself brick by brick and doesn’t let himself crumble so easily. 

But he’s learned that it’s unavoidable and the walls will always fall. He’s learned that when they do, they will only crush you. 

It was his birthday a few days ago. He wasn’t going to celebrate, but his mum insisted on having a party for him. It’s for her, really, so he can handle a few hours of letting his guard down if it means she’ll be happy about it. 

They’re setting up decorations. Streamers and signs and tables of food. Harry is on a ladder, pinning cheap pink streamers near the ceiling. His mum is setting out a bowls of crisps when she tells Harry, “I heard Louis is getting in town tonight.”

Harry really wishes she wouldn’t say things like that when he’s four feet off the ground. He gathers himself though, takes in a breath of air before asking, “Does he know about the party tonight?” 

“Of course,” Anne smiles, “I invited Johanna and them. 

“Mum, I haven’t seen him in years,” he whines.

“I know, this will be a great time for the two of you to catch up, don’t you think?” 

Harry grumbles as he climbs down the ladder and walks up behind his mum and she looks up at him with a watery smile. “I can’t believe you’re seventeen, Harry.” 

“Mum, we talked about this. No getting all sappy on me.” 

“Right, sorry. Won’t happen again.” It takes a minute for her to look away. 

Harry is seventeen and he feels pretty okay with it. 

 

The house begins to fill around six. A lot of family members, some friends. There’s no sign of Louis yet and Harry is ready to be relieved at the idea that maybe he isn’t coming after all. Those feelings fizzle, though, when he sees him come through the door, no sisters or mum or dad. He hasn’t even seen pictures of him since he left and it’s almost startling when he sees him. He looks even prettier and delicate than Harry remembers, although he’s not too sure how that’s possible. Anne is greeting him and bringing him in for a hug and Louis’ grin is bright.  
Harry turns away from the scene. He needs fresh air or water or time by himself. It shouldn’t be overwhelming, but somehow it’s all too much and Harry finds himself in his upstairs bedroom somewhere  
between panic. 

He knows there are people downstairs that are here for him and he should not be locked up in his bedroom with the radio on, but he doesn’t know if he would be able to smile and nod at his guests with the possibility Louis’ eyes are on him. He’s in his bed, staring up at the blank ceiling. Maybe if he stares long enough, the ceiling will take pity on him and come crashing down. 

When there is a small knock on his door, Harry doesn’t answer it. The door opens anyway. It’s Harry’s mum, of course. 

“Harry?” she sounds worried, sitting at the end of his bed, “Harry, why are you in your room everyone is downstairs waiting to sing happy birthday to you.” 

He groans and turns on his side.

“Okay, we don’t have to sing,” his mum knows him too well, “But there is cake and we can’t cut it without you.” 

Harry sits up and pulls his knees to his chest. “This party was your idea, mum, why don’t they sing for you?”

She smiles. “I told you we could have just gone to lunch, remember?”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, yeah?” 

Anne stirs from the end of Harry’s bed and leaves with a kiss to his forehead. 

It takes him about five minutes to build up the courage to crawl out of his room. 

 

 

 

_“Happy birthday to you.”_

Harry forces a smile as the chorus is finished. They are all gathered around the table like he’s turning five years old. He looks in every direction but Louis’.

When all the birthday things are done and over with, everyone is in the kitchen and Harry tries to slink back into his room. He pauses, though because someone is on the stairs. It’s his best friend. 

Louis is looking down at his hands spread out on his legs. Harry tries to turn back around, but Louis looks up. And smiles. And speaks. “Hi, Harry.” 

“Hey, Lou,” is all he can really think to say. Harry sits down shakily next to Louis. 

“Happy birthday. It’s nice to see you again. How long has it been?”

It’s been two years and thirty-three days. “A while,” Harry shrugs, “Did you ever learn to fly?” 

Louis drops his head and smiles at that. “No, actually. I never did.” 

They talk a while. They catch up and soon learn to fix the awkward. 

After some time passes, breaks in the conversation aren’t a fragile thing anymore. 

Currently there’s a pause and Louis fills it. “My best friend just turned seventeen.”

Harry beams bashfully at that. He remembers now, why he was so fond of Louis when they were little. 

It’s been long enough now, though, and Harry thinks if they are going to catch up after two years Harry might as well say it. “I was as in love as an eleven year old could be.”

And Louis laughs, like he knows it, too. “Well, you’re not far off with how I was feeling. I don’t think I realised it at the time, but I do know and christ, was my entire childhood was surrounded around you.” 

Harry didn’t even answer back because it was spur of the moment and any sane person at any other time would probably think they’re going crazy, but he thinks it’s about the time that makes it all alright. “Lou? Let’s go to the beach, right now, you and me.”

He looks surprised at first and then he grins a wonderful grin. “Alright, Haz.” 

 

 

They get to the sea and they can finally breathe. 

The water is up to Louis’ calves and Harry is following after him. The water is so, very cold and so, very intoxicating.

The water reaches their necks and Harry tugs Louis closer for warmth, and maybe a bit of balance. 

It’s almost quiet. 

The sound of waves are moving away from them and their own breathing is what holds them in place. 

“Harry,” Louis whispers, “I know it’s not for a more than a week, but, will you be my valentine?”

“I’m sorry Louis, I can’t be your valentine. We haven’t kissed.”

Harry isn’t sure he’s ever seen Louis’ smile that wide. 

“You bastard,” Louis shouts and Harry doesn’t have the time to defend himself before it’s mouth on mouth. It’s short and sweet and everything and more he’s ever imagined it to be. Harry grasps onto Louis’ shoulders and brings Louis down into the water with him. 

Louis comes up for air moments before Harry does, but when he does finally take a breath, he surfaces looking up at the night sky and Harry can almost convince himself he’s in heaven.


End file.
